


Panacea

by silverfoxflower



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:07:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26827858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverfoxflower/pseuds/silverfoxflower
Summary: “Tell me about mother?” Ciri asks Calanthe
Relationships: Calanthe Fiona Riannon & Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23
Collections: Trick or Treat Exchange 2020





	Panacea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nary/gifts).



“Tell me about mother?” 

Ciri was sitting on the steps of the throne, her head resting against Calanthe’s knee. From her seat, all Calanthe could see was the crown of her granddaughter’s head, the soft blonde curls that were a bittersweet legacy from Pavetta. 

“Ah,” Calanthe said, “Your mother was a … willful girl.” 

“She was a bad child?” Ciri asked, tipping her head upwards. 

“No, not at all,” Calanthe tried to remember what the nannies had said of Pavetta. There had been so much work when Pavetta was young, battlefronts to rally and uprisings to quash. Calanthe had hardly enough time to play both Queen and warrior, much less wife and mother. “She was quiet,” Calanthe said. “Obedient. A great fan of stories.” 

In truth she had not understood the girl. Pavetta had been everything Calanthe had rebelled against being her entire life - gentle, feminine, her head so often in the clouds that it seemed she could hardly communicate with those on the mortal plane. Calanthe had loved her of course, but her love was full of worry. In truth, she had hoped that an early betrothal would wake the girl up a bit, shake her out of the chivalric delusions she had of knights and true love. 

Who knew that the girl already possessed a spine that challenged even Calanthe’s mettle? 

“How can she be both obedient and willful?” Ciri asked doubtfully. 

“In truth,” Calanthe said, “I did not know your mother as well as I wished.” Nor, it seemed, well at all. The sadness must have been evident from her tone because Ciri climbed onto Calanthe’s lap, scattering her work and enfolding her in a childish hug. 

Though Ciri was too old for such behavior and Calanthe should scold her, she allowed it, burying her face firmly, briefly in Ciri’s bright hair. 

“I won’t be a stranger to you, grandmother,” Ciri said, with the utter confidence of youth. 

“Thank you, my child,” Calanthe said, and smiled.


End file.
